


I Wish I Was In Love Again

by BlueRobinWrites



Series: The Music Made Me Do It [10]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Music, Joni Mitchell - Freeform, Post Troubled Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26482090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRobinWrites/pseuds/BlueRobinWrites
Summary: If you haven't read Troubled Blood...Don't read this yet.If you have...Welcome!!! Enjoy!
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Series: The Music Made Me Do It [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668514
Comments: 10
Kudos: 57





	I Wish I Was In Love Again

**Author's Note:**

> I hope all of you LOVED Troubled Blood as much as I did. 
> 
> I'm already on my second reread...and I cannot get enough. 
> 
> Like many of you, I'm sure, I've been listening to Joni Mitchell and [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uYvo1jPq2EM) song just showed me this scene.

_ The furtive sigh  
The blackened eye  
The words I love you 'til the day I die  
The self-deception that believes that lie  
I wish I were in love again _

The light filtered through the curtains, burnishing the hardwood floor a deep gold, almost the color of her hair, as she hummed along to the song floating through the room, while running a fluffy duster along the tops of the bookshelves holding his favorite books and albums. The faint scratch of a needle on vinyl, crackling and sparking over the raspy voice floating from the speakers he’d mounted for her in the corners of the room, was a familiar and welcome sound. Every song he’d ever listened to always sounded better on vinyl. 

It seemed his partner agreed. 

He leaned his shoulder against the side of the doorway, striking a match and lifting it to the cigarette dangling between his lips, before blowing it out with a stream of smoke, and depositing it in the brass ashtray on the low table beside the door; kept there so that he could rest his cigarette while divesting himself of his massive overcoat, should he be in the middle of a fag, upon his arrival. 

Her feet were bare, her hair left to wave down to just above the small of her back, her legs encased in black leggings, over which a sweatshirt hung to her hips, one shoulder peeking out of the collar. He knew that if she turned to face him he’d see the word Arsenal emblazoned across her chest, and a small shield with his team’s logo resting over her left hip. 

Seeing her in his clothes, the way they swamped her slight frame, despite the fact that she was tall and generously curved, always made his heart swell. Reminding him that he was the one she’d chosen, after all the misunderstandings, the heartbreak, the fear, the frustrations. He was the one she’d decided she wanted to throw her lot in with. 

Partners, in business and love.

She turned, humming and now waving the duster as though directing the orchestra playing the softly jazzy tune, and noticed him in the doorway, cigarette held loosely in his fingers, the ash on it long and beginning to curve, indicating he’d been there for a while, watching her silently. His lips were curved in the soft smile she adored. A globular cluster of stars in dark eyes, sparking with mirth as he watched her.

“You looking to be in love with someone else? I thought I was the only one,” he chided teasingly, as he crushed the cigarette in the brass ashtray and crossed his arms over his chest, still leaning lazily against the doorframe. 

Looking at him, with his curls rioting all over his head, his lips twitching against the urge to laugh, his big body taking up most of the doorway, she couldn’t help but remember the in-between times. Moments when she’d felt more alone than she’d ever been. When she’d wanted the comfort of a hand to hold, a shoulder to rest her head on. 

Those moments, suspended in time, the office darkening, her eyes swelling, nose and forehead smarting, but her lips prickling with awareness. 

When she’d begun to understand that it was alright to allow herself to be in love with him. 

When she’d allowed her feelings for this man to squirm out of the box she’d closed them away in for so long.

When she’d nearly taken his hand and asked him to lead her to his bed.

That moment spun into moments, into what felt like hours, into what felt like days, drowning in his eyes...until the door opened, and the moment broke and she’d scrambled to tuck those feelings back in and hide them. 

“Just you,” she said, dropping the duster and moving into him, wrapping her arms around him and laying her head on his shoulder, her nose burying itself in his neck and breathing him in. 

“Just you,” he repeated, as his hands smoothed her hair over her back and his cheek rested on the top of her head. 

And they stood there, wrapped in each other, swaying gently to the music, the crackle of a needle on vinyl the only sound in the room, aside from the melodies and raspy voiced singer. 


End file.
